Realization
by kepulver
Summary: [G1] Swindle learns a painful lesson written about 4 or 5 years ago, takes place after the episode B.O.T.


_**Author's note:** This story takes place a couple days after the Generation One episode "B.O.T.," the episode where Swindle sold his teammates for parts after Superion blew everybody but him apart with one really lucky shot. I wrote it mainly because I was curious what would have happened to Swindle after the episode ended and his fellow Combaticons got their hands on him._

_This story has appeared in the fanzine "Con-Quest" (issue #29). _

**Realization**

I was standing at the commissary counter, working my way through a piece of silicon sponge to try and help resupply my self-repair systems. I needed something more substantial, like steel wool or copper slugs but my jaw and dentals were still too sore from my brothers' 'tender' ministrations the day before for me to even think about anything that wouldn't break down on its own in my processors.

I could hear muffled conversation coming from a table behind me where some of the seekers were refueling:

"Isn't that Swindle?"

"Yeah, I heard he sold his teammates for scrap."

"Wow... and he's still alive?"

There was a snicker. "Don't know if I'd go that far."

I ignored them as best I could, focusing on the slow, painful process of tucking bits of sponge into my mouth, swallowing and trying not to think any further ahead than the next bite. I knew what was coming, they'd told me in medbay that Onslaught wanted to 'talk' to me. If his idea of a 'conversation' was anything like the one I'd already had with the others, who could blame me for wanting to prolong the inevitable?

Heavy footsteps behind me were my first clue I'd been found. Hearing the Seekers sitting by me head for the door like someone had asked for volunteers to partner with Blot was my second. His hand on the least damaged of my two shoulders was just confirmation of what I'd been waiting for.

"Hey Ons," I said, sounding more blasé than I felt.

"Swindle," he said. "We need to talk."

"Yeah?" I said, still not turning around. "What about?"

Onslaught rumbled deep in his chest and I flinched, in spite of myself. I heard the sound of more people leaving, but whether it was to get out of the combat zone or to go get more spectators I couldn't tell.

"Come with me," Onslaught said.

I snorted, which was a bad idea since it reopened the split in my nose, causing energon to dribble out. Wiping it away with the back of my hand I tore off a piece of sponge and dunked it in the energon cube sitting in front of me, trying to soften it up.

"...th' others beat you to it," I said. "Though if you wanna pound my head into my chest, g'head. I can't stop you."

"I'm not going to hit you," Onslaught said. "I just want to talk. Let's go."

"M'eatin'," I said, hoping the gruffness of my tone hid my nervousness. "We can talk here."

His hand tightened on my shoulder, making me wince. Slowly, slowly he increased the pressure, forcing me to turn around to face him. I kept my optics front, staring at his chest and wishing I came further up it. Onslaught reached down and grabbed my chin; gently enough that while my optics fogged over, tears of pain didn't immediately start running down my face.

"I only want to know one thing, Swindle," he said. "Why?"

"You tell me an' we'll both know," I said with a shrug.

Onslaught's grip slipped from my chin to my neck and I felt my feet leaving the ground. I sighed, letting myself hang from his hand for a moment.

A brief interlude for those of you wondering why I didn't just warm up the old scatter-blaster and slag Onslaught. Well, Megatron had already put one bomb in my head for selling my teammates...I did not want to find out where he'd stick one if I got hauled in front of him for infighting with my own commander. Besides, trying to slag Onslaught would just have made him madder at me. Brawl is a mechafeline compared to Onslaught when he's incensed.

"G'head, bro," I radioed. "Hit me. You'll feel better. Y'know you will."

Onslaught shifted his grip slightly so he was holding me by the armor rather than the throat. He lifted me further, looking into my optics, his visor cold and narrow.

"Don't joke, Swindle," he said. "Not about this. Why did you do it?"

I shrugged, wincing again. That always was the worst part about taking a beating, being reminded each time you moved afterward just how sore you were. And I was sore. Being captured by the Autobots would have been a picnic compared to the beating Blast Off, Brawl and Vortex had given me. Well... that Brawl and Vortex had given me. Blast Off had just shot me in the back with that damned ionic blaster of his, leaving me for the others to play with.

I didn't remember much of the beating…the last conscious recollection I had was hearing Blast Off say "Hey Brawl, bet you can't make Stumpy eat his own fist…"

Judging by the damage to my hand and mouth, Brawl'd come damn close to winning the bet.

Onslaught shook me, gently, bringing me back to the present.

"Answer me Swindle," he barked. "Why did you betray us?"

"Dunno…" I said. "Guess it was just a good deal…" It was the truth... something I do occasionally tell. And it had been a great deal. I mean, El Presidente had been right; I got big bucks for my brothers. And the great thing was that since I stole their parts back, I didn't have to return the money. I mean, sure the Russians had wanted their cash back but what were they gonna do? Complain to Megatron?

Onslaught's optics brightened; despite himself he was getting angrier. I have that effect on people, it's kind of a gift.

"Damnit Swindle!" he said, tightening his grip.

"Ons, it's the truth!" I said, reaching up for his hand. "I dunno why I did it... it... th' opportunity just presented itself an'..."

"..and you took it." Onslaught's voice was bitter. He looked down at me, face unreadable to anybody who hadn't grown up around four brothers with faceplates. His expression was one I was used to seeing on other people. Mostly outsiders, non-family members, people who didn't know me like my brothers did.

Seeing that look on Onslaught hurt more than the beating ever could have. Up until now, no matter what I did, no matter how rotten I was, no matter what weasely scams I pulled, no matter who I'd cheated... I'd never seen Onslaught disgusted by me.

I twisted in Onslaught's grip, trying to get away from it but it was no use. He held me as easily as a kidlet would hold a doll, forcing me to look him in the optics.

He looked at me for a long time, expression not changing as I struggled in vain to get loose, to get away from that look. Finally, I gave up and hung there.

"...I'm s..sorry Ons…" I said. What? It was worth a shot…

"You always are, Swindle, when you get caught," he said. "Tell me, this time, are you sorry because of what you've done, or because you're being punished?"

I blinked up at Onslaught, optics widening almost on their own as I slid into one of my better 'Who me?' expressions. Contrary to popular opinion, I don't actually practice them in front of the mirror... the best expressions are those that are natural.

"F'what I did, Ons," I said, my voice dripping sincerity like oil. "Was stupid an' wrong...I mean, you guys're th' only family I got..."

I stopped, partly because Onslaught was growling again but mostly because, for once, I just couldn't do it. It wasn't that I couldn't lie to Onslaught. I wouldn't have made it through my first million years if I hadn't been able to lie to Onslaught. But, for once, I didn't want to. I just wanted to be out of there, away from the awful feeling that was creeping up on me like a 'bot ambush.

"P…put me down," I said, struggling against Onslaught's grip. My neural net was buzzing painfully, like a circuit had gotten crossed. "…hurts…"

Onslaught stared at me. At first, I thought he was getting a thrill out of watching me squirm, but then it hit me that there was something else about his expression. I paused, blinking at him. Today, it seemed, was my day for firsts: I'd never seen Onslaught look at me with pity before either.

"You really don't know, do you?" he said.

"No," I said. "Honest Ons, I..I couldn't help it!" I said, feeling my deal-making circuits kick in on high as I tried to think of some way to get him to believe me. I felt my optics getting wider, my face shifting and becoming more sincere as I started to think of a way to plead my true feelings...whatever they were.

Ons must've caught the look in my optics because he sighed, shaking his head. I started struggling in earnest then, bringing my hand down in a chop against Onslaught's wrist for all the good it did. Hitting Onslaught, for the uninitiated, is like hitting a brick wall's bigger brother. Our creator sure knew how to build 'em. Not only didn't Onslaught drop me, but fresh pain blossomed in my mangled fingers. I let out a howl that ended in a sob.

That did it. Blame it on the stress or being loopy from the pain dampeners I'd swiped from medbay but I started bawling, something I hadn't done since my kidlet days. I stopped struggling and let myself hang from Onslaught's hand, babbling through my sobs, alternately swearing at him with every profanity I knew (and trust me, I know a lot of 'em) and begging him to finish the beating the others had started, to give me some pain I could understand.

"I'm sorry!" I wailed, my vocalizer crackling as feedback made my words even more ragged. The buzzing in my net built, making me yell just so I could hear my own words. "Please Onslaught, it hurts! Make it stop!"

"It's called guilt, Swindle," Onslaught said. "Perhaps you've heard of the concept?"

I nodded, sniffling through my broken nose. "Y..yeah," I said, bitterly. "Never felt it b'fore…"

I wasn't kidding, which was good since Onslaught didn't laugh.

"Father designed you too well," he said softly, setting me back on my feet but not letting me go just yet. I didn't mind, I was leaning on him for support as it was. "I wonder if he would be proud at how well you turned out."

"Dunno," I said, swiping a hand across my face, wiping at my nose and optics. The buzzing had subsided, almost disappearing. "Doubt it."

"Indeed," Onslaught said. "He created us as team, Swindle. You know that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said. 'An' there is no 'I' in 'team.'"

Onslaught raised an optic ridge curiously.

"Human expression," I said, looking back down at my feet.

Onslaught nodded. "Seems the humans have some wisdom after all." He paused. "You have an interest in them, don't you?"

I shrugged. Interest was putting it mildly. They were fascinating. Not to mention profitable. They'd buy damn near anything I brought them, even scraps. "Kinda..." I said, the usual evasiveness coming back to me as though it'd never gone. "They're good with weapons...an' scammin'...pretty inventive for a buncha organics..."

Onslaught nodded again, then paused, thinking. This was an expression I was used to seeing and it made me nervous. Onslaught was running through the angles of the situation, looking for something useful. He looked down at me, optics brightening as an idea came to him. I felt the armor at the back of my neck twitch.

"You have... contacts, among the humans. Correct?" he said, too casually. "That was how you were able to sell us so quickly?"

"Y..yeah," I said, reluctantly. I didn't like that look in his optics, mainly 'cause I'd seen it in my own too many times. There were times Onslaught made me look like a rank amateur when it came to scheming. He was better at looking beyond short-range profits than I was. "I…I got a few…"

"Good," Onslaught said. "You will maintain these contacts, and improve upon them. We can make use of them."

"We?" I said, startled and instantly wary. "Whatcha mean 'we'?"

"Why, the team, of course Swindle," Onslaught said, chuckling. His optics gleamed with that old look of his, the one that meant he had a plan. The closest human equivalent to it I'd ever found came from a TV show: Ons was 'on the jazz.' Which meant my little tan aft was in a sling until he got it out of his system.

"This is a new world, with new opportunities," Onslaught said, gesturing with his free hand. "If we're to succeed here we'll need an understanding of it. We'll need a supply network. A new base. You will make a report to me in..." he looked me over.

"Say, a week's time. Detailing your activities here. Orally, of course -- we need no data trails. And you will reveal everything to me, otherwise...well, the rest of us can always use the target practice. Good day Swindle."

I blinked as I watched him go, the sinking feeling that I been screwed to the wall and not even kissed washing over me. I thought of my profits being split five ways and I had to hand it to him... he'd hit me in my soft spot. This was gonna hurt a lot longer than my hand would…

"Ons, you magnificent son of a bitch."


End file.
